The Killer and the Artist
by creatoriginsane
Summary: He thought he would break her, but he was the one who broke in the end. "Martyrdom is an Art" revised.
1. The Dreamers

**The Killer and The Artist**

* * *

A/N: I had one year to plan how this story should have gone before, and I have a year to catch up. If you're familiar with _Love-in-idleness,_ consider this as a prequel of sorts, and an exploration in writing character more than anything.

I had thought of deleting _Martyrdom is an Art_ to make way for this one, but considered against it. That being said, some chapters here are going to intersect and have basically the same content, but it seemed a waste to just replace all current chapters with this one.

In short, _Martyrdom is an Art_ will no longer be updated, it will only be kept here (and not on AO3, where the "replacement" has been done) for archiving purposes/reference.

* * *

 _He thought he would break her, but he was the one who broke in the end._

* * *

In this dream, he is thirty-five.

He is a victor.

In this dream, this war-torn land had finally given up.

In this dream, he had what he sought all his life; beyond the love he had wanted as a child, beyond the fear he had earned in his adolescence, and beyond the infamy he had achieved as an adult is this.

This picture of perfection.

In this dream, he is looking at her.

It is the summer. The famous blade Murai is lying at her feet. There are two swords protruding from her palms; the wakizashi is Yamenokayama, the katana is Kunishige.

Those are her swords.

The whistling blade of Kunishige is now equipped with poison, the viscous liquid shining in the light. The electric blade of Yamenokayama is now enhanced with an abrasive liquid, now allowing it to cut through virtually anything, and leave a painful acid behind. Murai, with its lightning-sharp blade and impossible weightlessness...

 _Murai, the blade she had promised him._

He mutters his gratitude under his breath.

"You have my thanks."

He closes her slack jaws, pushes Yamenokayama and Kunishige back into her body.

And suddenly she looks like herself again, mouth tight and body stiff, posture rigid and eyes unwavering. It was a wise decision that he had kept her eyes the way they always were when directed at him.

"Hyakurai."

It is the name he had given her, the name that would ensure his would never be forgotten. She is the lightning bolt that would etch his name in stone.

But suddenly, he is awoken by the sound of explosions.

So another day has dawned.

And she has not yet returned.

* * *

In this dream, she is thirty-four.

She is a lover.

In this dream, this war-torn land has finally achieved peace.

In this dream, she had what she sought all her life; beyond the adventure she had longed for as a child, beyond the recognition she had hoped for as an adolescent, and beyond the peace she had desired when she had grown into an adult is this.

This picture of home.

In this dream, she is looking at the courtyard.

It is the summer. A pot of tea and two cups are placed beside her. There is a man sitting with his head against her shoulder.

It is him.

Him, with his red hair and brown eyes. Him, with his small frame and young face. Him, with his beating heart and tender flesh. Him, human and hers.

 _Hers._

She whispers to herself a quiet admission, a hopeful statement.

"Welcome home."

She brushes his hair from his eyes as he breathes deeply.

And suddenly the silence is filled with the sound of his breathing, the whisper of the breeze, the sound of flowing water, the distant sound of bokken clashing.

He lifts his head from her shoulder to press a kiss to her cheek.

"Welcome home." He says.

And he twines his fingers with hers, laughs when she tells him how childlike his actions are, before kissing her properly on the mouth.

But alas, like all the times she has dreamed, she is awoken by a burst of sound, a flash of light.

"We've won the war!"

And, as if by instinct, she grimaces.

 _Just like a child._

Of course it was a dream.

He was thirty-five when he died.

* * *

But today, years and years before these such dreams have occurred, they are children.

He is eleven years old, the child puppetry prodigy of Sunagakure.

She is ten years old, the sharp daughter of Yūkō's best swordsmith.

A war is looming above them, and the thunderous allure of battle echoes in the halls of their homes.

He is Sasori, not yet the international criminal.

She is Shikai, not yet the indestructible mercenary.

They are children; young and ambitious children bred for war.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, that last part had me cringing too. Sorry, I just couldn't think of a better way to transition to the next chapter. Updates will be up every 30th or 31st of the month. Thanks.

Feedback is always appreciated.


	2. The Amakuni Heir

**The Killer and The Artist**

A/N: It takes me a while to get things going. I've been busy with the work-eat-sleep routine since I graduated college last year. I just hope I can get ideas flowing as I had before.

* * *

 _He thought he would break her, but he was the one who broke in the end._

* * *

Most of Suna's inhabitants would tell you that the sunsets over the desert are incomparable, with bright colors of orange and crimson bleeding into the pale sky. Usually, the sunset would signal the end of another day in the life of one who lives in Suna, but for some it's just a pretty sight to look at to ease the nerves.

But no matter how long the Sandaime Kazekage looks at the sunset, his nervousness doesn't seem to lessen.

He's nervous, which only rarely happens in his life, but it's not because a unit of samurai is coming to Sunagakure at such short notice, it's not that at all. Well, his nervousness is partially because his assistant got the date of a supply caravan's arrival mixed up with the date of Amakuni Shoto's arrival.

And Amakuni Shoto is only just a pretty influential figure in the politics of Yuukou, that's all.

 _No one important at all._

That's like saying that Goyou, the Sandaime's assistant, is no one important.

And, right now, that's how the middle-aged man standing beside the terrifyingly calm Kazekage is feeling.

"Sandaime-sama." Goyou begins tentatively. "I deeply apologize for my mistake." His voice is shaking.

But the seated man doesn't even move to acknowledge it.

"It was a careless mistake." He continued, "I am prepared to face any punishment you see fit to give me."

 _That's not true._

Goyou is very much terrified of being decapitated on the spot.

The Kazakage smirks to himself.

"There is no need for such drastic measures, Goyou." He replies as calmly as he can, "Besides, finding another assistant would prove to be troublesome if I lob off your head."

Goyou swallows a hard gulp. "Of course, Sandaime-sama. Shall I provide you with the names of the persons accompanying Shoto-dono?"

"There's no need. I doubt Shoto would have someone with him worth knowing prior to his arrival."

At least, that's what he hopes so. Despite his fame and power, one of the Kazekage's very few weaknesses is his memory.

"Understood, Sandaime-sama." Goyou nods.

"For now, summon the council, and select members of our shinobi." The Kazekage finishes penning a list of names.

Goyou's eyes widen at the lengthy list. "For tomorrow, sir?"

"Of course." He nods, rolling the list and handing it over to his assistant, "You know how to deal with things delivered at such short notice, right?"

The Kazakage's chilling grin makes Goyou wish his head was lobbed off instead.

"Now hurry, Goyou. I doubt most of the persons on that list would appreciate a late night call."

Now Goyou really wishes that his head was lobbed off.

* * *

/

* * *

Today Sasori is eleven years old.

It's a hot day in Sunagakure, as it always is, but the air is heavy with anticipation and fear. It's nothing different, if he was to be honest. There are news of civil disputes, rumors of a coming war, reports of plunder, and massacres, threats of assassination and murder. So, of course, there is an overall sense of unease hanging above everyone's heads.

And today, there seems to be a greater sense of unease than usual.

But why is that?

No. He doesn't question it. He doesn't care. He doesn't have time to. He's cooped up in his workshop, tinkering with incomplete, half-broken puppets, polishing armor plates, and sharpening metal blades. He's a busy boy for someone his age, almost as busy as the man who taught him how to craft his own set of blades and armor.

 _"That's a wonderful first try, Sasori."_

He scoffs. Obviously, that man was lying. That blade was crooked and not at all sharp, but he did feel proud of that blade at that time.

Well, he _was_ seven and a half years old.

"Sasori, how long are you going to stay in there?"

He scowls and tightens his grip on the gouge.

"As long as it takes to finish this order, Chiyo-baa."

He continues working, carving out the eye socket in the skull.

"Sasori–"

The door opens and he whips around to face his grandmother.

"I'm busy, _baaba_."

Chiyo is honestly not that shocked at Sasori's attitude, he's always been like this ever since. Not even his apprenticeship could change it.

Speaking of his apprenticeship...

"It's the Kazekage."

He rolls his eyes. It's always the Kazekage. _What does he want, anyway?_

But instead of sighing in defeat, Chiyo steels herself and speaks with a tone she would only use at council meetings.

"Suna has visitors. We're going to greet them."

He looks at her with an utterly bored expression.

"So? Why should I be there? I'm not part of Suna's council."

Chiyo frowns. _Deeply._

Sasori stares up at her. So very bored.

The staredown begins.

Chiyo narrows her eyes. This is the fourth time this week and she can't take it anymore.

So she drags Sasori out of his workshop.

"That order is due for next week, Sasori." She huffs as she pulls on his wrist. "You should go out for some fresh air every now and then."

Sasori grumbles as Chiyo drags him out.

"Well, Chiyo-baa, the air in Suna can hardly be called fresh."

* * *

/

* * *

Today Shikai is ten years old.

She pants heavily as she uses her sleeve to wipe off the sweat on her face. She pushes her sleeves up and rolls her shoulders backwards. This is her first time outside of Yuukou no Sato, her hometown, and she knows it won't be her last. She knows what Yuukou's council speaks of, has heard from her father about the rumors of a brewing war, has seen from discarded letters warnings of civil disputes and death notices. They're samurai and they should have nothing to do with what her mother terms as petty disputes between shinobi.

But Yuukou's leader, Tetsuyama Junkei, thinks otherwise.

 _"This is also our world, we might as well fight to protect it."_

She believes that too, which is why she was more than elated to know that her father had thought of sending her along with her uncle and his samurai unit to Sunagakure.

She has always wanted to go out and venture into the world, but she didn't expect the arid desert of Sunagakure to be the first sight that she sees.

She looks out the window of the carriage and sighs. She's a little bit disappointed, actually. Just a little bit.

"Why the long face?" Her uncle, her father's younger brother, Shoto, spoke to her with a look of concern, "Not up to your expectations?" He chuckled.

She shook her head vigorously. "Not at all."

"Well, you should get used to it." He says. "The world has a way of disappointing you."

She whipped her head to look at him in shock.

 _Oh, Sadamune might wring my neck for this._

"I'm just kidding!" He counters nervously. "Well, this world is bigger than you can imagine. There are deserts, swamps, vast grasslands..."

"Why are we going to Sunagakure, anyway?" She cut him off.

"Well, it's the closest village." He shrugs. "And, if you haven't heard, their leader has the same chakra nature as us."

"What?" She's suddenly excited. "Really? That's so cool!"

She peers her head out the window, "Miboshi! Ride faster!"

"I could, ojousan," The young man driving the carriage replied, "But I follow Shoto-san's orders now."

She frowned, narrowed her eyes when she turns to her uncle.

"We have a schedule, Shikai, it would be rude if we arrive early."

"I don't see why." She huffed as she slid back into her seat. "It's better than being late, anyway."

* * *

/

* * *

Sasori notices Chiyo's uncharacteristic enthusiasm as they walk down the streets, which leads him to ask,

"Who are these visitors, Chiyo-baa?"

"From what Goyou told me, they're samurai."

Chiyo notices that Sasori has stiffened at the mention of the term.

But the boy is quick to reply with a sarcastic tone, "I doubt they're coming for a social call."

"Sasori." She frowned. "The daimyou has requested for better diplomatic relations between Suna and Yuukou."

He merely scoffed at her response. Better diplomatic relations? The daimyou would rather buy himself a new plot of land than grant the appropriate funding for his soldiers. If he wants better relations between his shinobi and the samurai of Takamura no Kuni, then he's better off following Testuyama Junkei's example of leadership; innovation and experimentation over anything else.

But the samurai are from Yuukou no Sato, could it be...

 _"Someday, I'm going to visit you!"_

He denies the possibility.

"Yuukou?" He echoes.

"Yes."

 _But it's possible that..._

"Who are they sending?"

Chiyo finds slight amusement at Sasori's questions. He usually doesn't care about visitors. She smiles. "You'll find out soon."

He frowns at her cheerful expression.

"I don't like surprises, Chiyo-baa." He replies quietly.

* * *

/

* * *

Shikai nudges Shoto's shoulder impatiently.

"Hey, ojisan, are we there yet?"

"We're close, Shikai." He points to the far-off cliffs, "You can see Suna's walls if you look outside."

"Really?" So she looks, and returns a few moments later with a disappointed expression, "But I don't see anything..."

"Precisely. Sunagakure's walls are quite like Yuukou's, you know."

Except, Yuukou's walls were of thick bamboo, and Suna's walls were... rock.

"Hiding in plain sight." She nods.

Shoto leans close to Shikai's ear as he directs her to look behind a rock. He whispers, "Just like those bandits over there, thinking that we're a trading caravan."

She can't see anything, not even if she focuses her gaze.

And then something from behind the rock glints in the sunlight.

"What?" She gasps.

Shoto calls out to his forces, "On my signal!"

He kicks open the carriage door and is out and running across the sand, along with a number of his soldiers on horseback, before Shikai could even draw her sword.

"Wait for me, ojisan!"

But the moment her feet hit the sand, Miboshi is already there, holding his blade before her.

"No, ojousan!" He warns. "Leave this to your uncle."

She grits her teeth. "Out of the way, Miboshi."

"Shoto-san's orders." He narrows his eyes at her.

"Of course." She grumbles, sheathing her blade. "I'm not training every day for nothing, you know."

"Yes, and if you'd spend your free time learning about battle tactics rather than going for extra lessons at the dojo, your father might allow you to participate in such."

She glares at Miboshi. She hates his lecturing tone.

"Whatever." She huffs. "Father isn't here, anyway."

She marches back into the carriage and slams the door shut. Miboshi sighs. He clearly remembers Sadamune's words to him.

 _"Do not allow my daughter to participate in fights. My daughter is strong enough to fight, but she's not smart enough to win."_

* * *

/

* * *

Sasori is getting impatient, as is everyone else standing to greet the Kazekage's visitors under the hot desert sun. But it's a wonder why the Kazekage is seemingly absent from the crowd.

"They're late, Chiyo-baa." He states.

He's already so bored.

"Be patient, Sasori." She chides him.

He looks around. "Even the Kazekage isn't here. This must be a joke."

Chiyo turns to the nervous-looking Goyou and asks him, "Where's the Kazekage, Goyou?"

"Ah, well," the man scratches the back of his head, "he's attending to some urgent matters, Chiyo-sama."

Sasori glares at him fiercely.

"He's late." The boy grounds out.

It's very unusual that a man as efficient and as powerful as the Sandaime Kazekage would be late for something as important as this.

 _What in the world could he be doing?_

Murmurs erupt from the awaiting crowd, and Goyou doesn't know how to handle it.

"Everyone, please!" He catches their attention. "I apologize, but the Kazekage is attending to some urgent matters. Surely you all understand?"

He is met with narrowed glares and displeased frowns.

 _Where is the Kazekage?_

"Patience, Sasori,"Chiyo whispers to him, "I'm sure the Kazekage has his reasons, as do his visitors."

"What reason would he have?" Sasori snapped.

And, as if on cue, the man in question appears from above, standing on a cloud of his iron sand. The crowd is taken aback by the manner of his appearance.

"Ensuring the safety of his visitors, for example." The Sandaime spoke.

"Sandaime-sama!" Goyou exclaimed, visibly shaken by the Kazekage's appearance.

"You would excuse my tardiness." The Kazekage lowered his iron sand to the ground, before letting it slip into his sleeves. "It seems our guests faced an unexpected occurrence."

He glances at Goyou, who shivers at his calm expression, "It seems that bandits have caught on to the wrong information." He said under his breath.

Goyou could faint at that moment.

"Anyhow," The Kazekage turned back to the crowd, "Let us welcome our visitors from Yuukou."

He sweeps his right arm as he turns to welcome them.

"Welcome to Sunagakure no Sato, Amakuni Shoto."

Sasori's eyes widen the slightest.

 _Amakuni?_

* * *

/

* * *

The sun is high over the desert when the Kazekage's visitors arrive at the front gates. Amakuni Shoto and his company are dressed in quite regal attire, clothes foreign to the desert land. The main man himself is dressed in a deep purple hakama, a light blue kimono with silver lining, and a white haori with Yuukou's symbol, a four-petaled flower with two crossed swords underneath it, embroidered in deep blue thread. The rest of his unit is dressed in a dark brown hakama and a white kimono with deep blue lining. They were all wearing white tabi socks and black zori.

"A fine welcome, indeed, Sandaime-sama." Shoto greeted cheerfully. "I was feeling restless on the journey."

The Kazekage stepped forward. "I hope the weather isn't too bothersome, Shoto."

"As long as I can see for myself the sunset you boast so much about."

"Come." The Kazekage gestures to the crowd behind him. "These are members of Suna's high council, as well as select members of its shinobi."

"Everyone," he addresses the crowd, "This is Amakuni Shoto, one of Yuukou's Hagane Juttetsu. He and his men are here to learn about ninjutsu, as well as provide us with lessons in military tactics."

Sasori, along with several members of the crowd, found themselves confused by such a strange announcement.

"Ah, please." Shoto spoke sheepishly, "Just think of this as an exchange. Suna has, after all, sent their shinobi to train in Yuukou some years ago."

"Yes." The Kazekage agreed. "Several of the shinobi present here were part of the unit sent to Yuukou."

"Such as this young man here." He gestures to Sasori, who gasps inwardly.

He looks down, not because of embarrassment, but because he hates being the center of attention.

"Sasori?"

It's that voice.

And he jolts up, shocked.

It's _hers_.

And she's looking at him, having come from behind Shoto, with the same shocked expression as him.

And then she smiles out of relief.

He frowns and turns away.

It really is her.

That messy-haired, sweaty-faced, disorganized, and ambitious heir of the Amakuni.

* * *

/

* * *

A/N: We're starting in medias res (somewhat) because I'm too lazy to start from when they were younger. I had fun, but did not proofread this and am saving the proofreading for another day. _Love-in-idleness_ will update soon enough, probably by June. I apologize, but a lot of things are going on in my head for that story.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my attempt at writing Sasori and the Sandaime Kazekage, as well as establish something that is obviously AU (but I hope works in the universe).

Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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